Grace and Peace to you.
In the deep forest the silence grows up in you,
its roots tangling down in your darkness.
You look into the eyes of the wild goose,
who looks at you. Something touches.
I remember standing in the desert a long time.
I don’t remember what I was thinking, but I remember.
At the far end of the pond swimming at the bottom
you’re not so sure of the skin between you and the other water.
In your prayers nothing happens, there is no errand,
no meaning to holding hands like that.
The river that has been in many places enters the sea.
You walk out of the water, wet with many worlds.
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